I tried to laugh an' tell him I'd be all to the hunky when he wuz away, but I didn't git along very well through the waterfall.
Purty soon Sam slid down offa the couch on his knees by me, wid his head in my lap. His big shoulders were jist shakin', an' he said:
"May, darlin', when I'm gone, I wisht at night, before yer go to yer pallet, you would try an' say a little prayer fer me. Will you, baby? You've been all the happiness an' sunshine I've ever had."
An' I says: "Sam, I ain't never heard no swell prayers, an' I don't know the real way they do it; but if God will listen to me say it my own way, without no frills or fancy kneelln', oh gosh, Sam, I'll beg Him to take care of yer, darlin'."
Then I pulled him up, an' I sat on his lap. We tried to kid a little—you know, when your heart is achin', you try to act it ain't at all.
Purty soon I thought of somethin'. On my finger I had a ring—no sets or glass: jist a big ring wid a lot of carvin's on it. It wuz my mother's—I ain't never had it off, hungry or no hungry. But I took it oft my mit, an' slipped it on Sam's little finger, an' sed: "Sam darlin', I want you to wear this li'l ring of mine; an' at night, when yer down in them trenches in 'No Man's Land,' an' you're feelin'
